


It's Nice to Have a Friend

by ohjustpeachy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-10-01 20:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20389516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy
Summary: Steve moves to a new town and meets Tony, and it's nice, having a friend.





	It's Nice to Have a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I've listened to Taylor Swift's Lover album way too many times, and this is the result!

_ 1. _

Steve and his mother move to Brooklyn at the start of ninth grade, forcing him to leave everything he knows behind. Bucky, Sam, his art teacher Mr. Johnson, who would write notes letting him work in the art room during gym. Here, Steve knows no one, and he’s never been any good at making friends. Too shy, too bookish, too poor, Steve would have been lost if it wasn’t for Bucky. But they were neighbors, which meant they were basically destined to be best friends, and then they’d picked up Sam in fifth grade and never looked back. 

They started school last week, Steve knew. Bucky had been kind, telling Steve he wasn’t missing anything, the asshole kids were still assholes, only taller and meaner now, and the teachers were already assigning homework. Steve would give back his extra week of summer vacation to be there with them, though. Now, he stares up at William Alexander High School and grips the straps of his beat up backpack nervously. Students rush around him, reuniting and hugging and huddling around each other, and Steve takes a deep breath, opens the door and looks around. 

He has no idea where he’s going, he realizes immediately. Why did he think he would just stroll into homeroom and wait for the day to start? Classroom numbers swim in front of him on the schedule he has gripped in his hand, but he can barely tell which way is up, and he can’t muster up the courage to stop someone and ask. His palms are sweaty, crinkling the paper, and Steve feels his breathing go a little ragged, which is all he needs, to pull out his inhaler in the middle of a crowded hallway. 

Steve’s walking with his head down, which is how he bumps into the kid in the first place. Steve is small, his mom always telling him he’d hit a growth spurt soon enough, but Steve has his doubts. He hits the ground with a soft  _ oof _ and immediately looks up apologize to whoever he crashed into. Instead, he finds a hand outstretched and takes it, letting a kid his age with curly brown hair help him up. This was something, at least. At his old school, Steve was always getting shoved down, not pulled up.

“Thanks,” Steve says when he gets to his feet. “And… sorry for almost running you over,” he adds.

“I don’t know, you were the one who went down,” the kid says. “Don’t worry about it. Are you new? I don’t remember seeing you at that stupid orientation thing they made us go to last month.”

Steve nods miserably. He had a feeling he would be introduced as the new kid, looked at like an experiment all day, and he was dreading it. 

“Well don’t look  _ so _ happy about it. I only ask because you’re outside the science room this early, and no one hangs out here but me, usually. I’m Tony.” 

“Steve, and I’m not really hanging out here? I’m kinda lost, I’m just trying to find my homeroom, but…” Steve shrugs. 

“Let me see,” Tony says, taking the paper from his hand and scanning over it. “You were close. 347 is just down there,” Tony gestures down the hallway. “I can walk with you. I’m in the science club homeroom, try not to laugh.”

Steve’s quiet. Someone was worried about  _ him _ laughing at them? “Believe me, I wouldn’t laugh,” he promises, way too earnestly, probably. 

“Cool. We’re in the same English class last period, too. I’ve heard good things about Mr. Coulson,” Tony tells him as they walk. 

It’ll be nice, Steve thinks, to have at least one familiar, friendly face at the end of a day like this. 

_ 2. _

By November, there’s a chill in the air, and Steve is feeling almost okay about William Alexander High. He meets up with Tony most mornings, and they stand in the hallways chatting with Tony’s other friends, Rhodey and Pepper. He still feels like the new kid, and it’s strange, being part of a friend group that didn’t include Sam or Bucky, but it was nice, too, to be included. 

One Friday before Thanksgiving, Tony asks if Steve wants to come over after school. 

“My parents aren’t around much, but we can get pizza and play video games or something.” Tony says it almost nervously. “If you don’t already have plans,” he adds.

Steve doesn’t say that all his weekends are spent with books, and their cat, Milton. His mom has been pulling double shifts at her new job at the hospital, and his weekends often feel endless. FaceTiming Bucky makes him feel both better and worse, so he’s been doing it sparingly, only when he really feels like the silence might consume him. 

“I don’t,” Steve says, picking nervously at his just slightly too-small shirt. “Have plans, I mean.”

Tony grins at him. “Great, then! Let’s go.” 

Steve shoots off a text to his mom, letting her know where he was going, and follows Tony out the door as she responds. 

_ Have fun!! It’s nice you’re making friends :) _

Tony’s house is huge, and Steve realizes all at once that Tony is rich. Like,  _ stupidly _ rich. His stomach sinks. Steve very clearly doesn't have this kind of money, and the stark difference between them fills him with anxiety. He imagines Tony in his little apartment after living in a place like this and cringes a little. 

“My room’s this way,” Tony says, interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “Want a water or something?” He pulls open the fridge without waiting for a response and pulls two bottles out, handing one to Steve. 

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly. Maybe Tony wouldn’t care that he isn’t rich like he is. Maybe Rhodey and Pepper weren’t either. He does seem too nice to care about that kind of thing, but then again, some of the more terrifying kids at his last school did a frighteningly good job at pretending to be nice. 

When they get to Tony’s room, it’s all gadgets, and there’s multiple computers, a large bed, and a huge TV. Steve swallows. 

“This is... insane,” he says. 

“God, I know, it’s way too much, but my parents buy me things to ease their consciences about traveling so much, and it helps me get better at science, so,” Tony shrugs, but Steve thinks he looks a little sad as he does. Tony’s lonely too, he realizes.

They pick a game and sit on Tony’s bed, Steve suddenly very aware of how close Tony is to him. Close enough that he can smell the soft scent of detergent on his clothes, but he pushes the thought away as Tony yelps at something on the screen. 

And it was nice, having someone to hangout with again. 

_ 3. _

People always said high school goes by in the blink of an eye, and halfway through their junior year, Steve realizes those people were right. College is all anyone can think or talk about, and it makes Steve’s throat tighten every time. He hated the idea of starting over yet again, especially after things went so well this time around. He wouldn’t get that lucky twice. Besides, unless he got a scholarship, it was going to be community college for him, anyway. 

“You just don’t want to leave your boyfriend,” Bucky wheedles him when he FaceTimes him one night. Sam crams his face into the frame and nods. 

“He’s right Steve.”

Steve groans. They were dating now, Bucky and Sam, and he was happy for them, really he was, but it made him feel further from them than ever. And, on top of that, they were insisting Tony was in love with him, which he definitely  _ was not _ . 

“Shut up, oh my god, just because you two are sickening doesn’t mean we all need a relationship,” Steve huffs. 

“No, no, you’re right Stevie. You spend nearly every waking hour together and talk about him non-stop because he’s a good friend,” Bucky laughs. 

“He  _ is _ a good friend,” Steve insists. “He was—”

“There for you when you were lost and had no one,” Sam and Bucky finish in unison. 

God, he was embarrassing. So he talked about Tony a lot. They both had empty houses to come home to most days, so it made sense they spent them together. Steve had quickly gotten over his fear of Tony seeing their apartment, and now, if Tony had his way, they’d spend every weekend on the Rogers’ lumpy couch. Even Milton liked him, and he was a grumpy old man of a cat who did not take kindly to outsiders. 

Sure, Steve  _ liked _ Tony. It was impossible not to like Tony Stark, that’s all. And, yeah, Steve found himself wondering what it might be like if he and Tony sat a little closer on his beat up couch, what his hair might smell like, and how he’d react if Steve closed the distance and brought their lips together. What it would be like if they just… held hands when they walked home after school. The thoughts made Steve flush from cheeks to chest, and he always tried to push them out of his mind. Because it hardly mattered how he felt. Soon Tony would go to some Ivy League school and cure brain cancer or build a time machine or something, and they’d drift apart. It was inevitable, really. 

Steve feels a lump in his throat as he blinks back at his phone, making an excuse about homework and abruptly ending his call with Bucky and Sam. 

On the last weekend of winter break, Tony throws a party. If it was anyone else, Steve would have begged off, staying home with a thick blanket and a book, but it  _ wasn’t _ anyone else. By the time he gets to Tony’s, the house is already filling up, but Tony looks miserable. His curly hair was more well-kept these days, always gelled into place, and he always wore clothes that screamed  _ expensive _ . Now, though, his hair was in disarray, the curls as bouncy and free as they’d been the day Steve crashed into him in the hallway, he realizes with a pang. 

_ “Steve _ ,” Tony exclaims, his face transforming, awash with relieved happiness. “Thank god,” he says, grabbing Steve’s hand. 

The night is cold, but Tony grabs his coat and two bottles of beer and leads Steve to the roof, away from the rest of their classmates. The sun is setting, winter air swirling around them, and Tony pulls them down so they’re sitting against a wall. He looks down, sees that Steve isn’t wearing gloves, and takes off one of his own, holding it out. 

“Here, have one.” Steve blushes and slides it on. Warmth settles over him, but he isn’t sure if it’s the glove itself or the fact that Tony took it from his own hand and now the warmth of his skin was mingling with Steve’s. 

Something about the night feels different, but Steve can’t put his finger on why. Maybe Tony felt it, too. Like everything was about to change. One more year of this and then… 

They talk quietly, about everything and nothing, the beer sloshing in Steve’s empty stomach. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t terrible, either. He wasn’t  _ as _ small as he used to be, but he was still only one hundred and thirty pounds, and pretty short, so the beer does just enough to lighten him up. 

“This is nice. You’ve been like... tense lately,” Tony says out of nowhere, surprising him. 

“Have I? I guess I have. It’s just. College, and everything coming up it’s… I’m not good at change I guess,” Steve admits. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean,” Tony says softly. Without seeming to think about it, Tony reaches over and covers Steve’s bare hand with his, and they sit like that in the quiet. 

It’s nice, having someone who understands, someone who didn’t need Steve to put everything into words. 

_ 4. _

Steve starts college as nervously as he started high school. He’s taller and a bit more outgoing now, but it’s difficult nonetheless. Senior year was a blur, he and Tony slipping into a relationship with an ease Steve had never known, but wasn't entirely surprised by. Everyone claims to have seen it coming, including his mother, who just looked at him with a knowing smile and informed him she’d been waiting for that since the first time she came home and found them asleep in the living room, a pile of homework forgotten around them. 

“You’re different with him, Stevie, that’s all I’m saying. It’s nice that you have someone. You bring out the best in each other.” Steve tries not to blush. 

He fails. 

Tony showed up on prom night with two rented tuxedos and his driver, and Steve shakes his head adamantly. Dating was one thing, but  _ prom? _ Steve wasn’t a prom person. His palms start sweating at the very idea of it, dancing pressed close together with Tony. Steve was all left feet, and he was pretty sure Tony had grown up with professional dance lessons. 

“ _ Not a prom person?”  _ Tony repeats. “Please tell me what a  _ prom person _ looks like, exactly. Is it us? Because we’re going. Look, I got you a boutonniere and everything, don’t make me throw it away, I’ll cry, is that what you want?” He adds a pleading look so adorably pathetic Steve has to smile.

“A prom person looks like anyone who  _ isn’t _ me,” Steve says, but Tony’s holds out the flower, a simple white rose, and he feels himself softening. Tony was looking at him with his warm brown eyes, and he had everything planned, it wasn’t like Steve had any real  _ reason _ to say no, aside from his fear that it would make the end of high school that much more real. 

On that front, Steve wasn’t wrong. They have a great time, and he only steps on Tony’s feet a few times. He was so caught up in swaying along with his arms around Tony that for once, Steve wasn’t concerned with what anyone else was thinking. By the end of the night, though, after milkshakes and burgers at a diner near Steve’s apartment, they’re quiet. Neither one of them wanted to admit what they both knew. Senior year was really ending, and Tony would be going nearly four hours away to MIT, and Steve would be staying local, attending the Pratt Institute on a nearly full scholarship. He was over the moon, and could live at home to save money, but he was going to miss Tony like a limb. 

“We’ll be fine,” Tony kisses him sweetly, then with more depth, each press of lips a promise. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

“I do,” Steve tells him. Because he does, maybe more than he’s ever trusted anyone. 

Maybe that’s why, despite all their fears, being apart strengthens their relationship. Steve visits, and Tony comes home for long weekends and breaks. He once drove four hours to talk Steve through a particularly bad panic attack before his first ever workshop critique, only to drive four hours back in the morning for an exam of his own. It’s then that Steve is sure. He’s always known Tony is his person, but something solidifies for him, there in the dim lighting, Tony’s soothing voice in his ear, that this was very much a forever kind of thing.

Their friend group grows, introductions are made, and Steve has  _ people _ now, Bucky and Sam and Tony and Rhodey and Pepper and Sharon and Peggy and Happy, their friends and their lives intertwined inextricably.

Most importantly, they root for each other, whether they’re side by side or miles apart. Steve’s there when Tony wins awards for breakthroughs, and Tony comes to nearly every art show Steve participates in. 

There are, of course, long nights and tearful goodbyes, and fights about money and distance, long-buried insecurities rearing their heads in the form of anger and miscommunications, and too many long silences. But they always, always find their way back.

It’s nice, having something as constant as Tony Stark in his life. 

_ 5. _

Before they know it, It’s five years after graduation, and they live together in a small apartment in Manhattan. It has all the charm of Sarah Rogers’ apartment, with all the tech of Tony’s old bedroom. It’s a bit of both of them, and Steve adores it. They even have a cat of their own, an argumentative little tabby cat they name Pancake who occasionally tolerates them fussing at her. 

They’re successful, Steve running a gallery and Tony building a company from the ground up, but one thing remains the same: they’re always better when they’re together. It should feel impossible, that they’ve managed to overcome all the hurdles thrown at them over the years, but Steve meant it when he told Tony he trusted him all those years ago. The difference was that now Steve trusted himself, too. Trusted that happiness didn’t have to be fleeting and easily lost. 

“You’ve essentially been married for years, you might as well make it official, Stevie,” Bucky nudges him one night when he’s visiting. He’s tormenting Pancake with the flashlight on his phone, clicking it on and off rapidly, before she can pounce at it, but Steve thinks he might just have a point. 

He finds a ring, and he concocts a plan that makes his stomach churn nervously, which meant it was probably the right choice. He was nearing thirty and some things still made him reach for his inhaler, and this was definitely one of them. He takes a deep breath, thinks back through all the moments, big ones and small ones and every one in between, and Steve knows what he’s going to say as if he was born to say it. 

On the night Steve proposes, he knocks on their door. In one hand he has a faded, wrinkled, nearly illegible high school schedule that has been with him for nearly fifteen years; in the other, a boutonniere with a white rose. The schedule was, of course, when they met, but the rose, prom, that was when Steve fell completely, irrevocably in love. By the time Tony opens the door, Steve’s on one knee, and doing his best to keep his composure long enough to get the words out. 

He takes a shuddery breath.

“On the loneliest day of my life, I met a curly-haired kid who was kind to me. He offered me a hand, picked me up off the ground, and gave me some directions. No one thinks love works like that, but sometimes it can. It did for me. You showed me that life can surprise you in the best ways and never stopped proving it to me. Because that kid took my hand, and somewhere along the way I realized that I never wanted to let it go. You were my first friend in a new place, a constant, a force to be reckoned with, and I’ve been thankful for you every day since. You walked me to class, and to parties, and everywhere in between, and nothing would make me happier than to walk beside you for the rest of my life.” 

Steve holds out the ring, and before he can manage the final four words, Tony pulls Steve to his feet and wraps his arms around him, repeating  _ yes _ and  _ Steve _ and  _ I love you _ through his tears. 

They have a small ceremony, their collected groups of friends, their parents, and even Pancake deigns to attend. There’s dinner and dancing and more happiness than Steve knew it was possible for one person to feel. His cheeks threaten to crack from smiling so hard. Tony carries him through the threshold when they get home, drunk on too much champagne and the magic of the day, and it’s better than nice, Steve thinks. It’s perfect, being married to Tony Stark. 


End file.
